


won't treat you like you're typical

by BlackEyedGirl



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Awkward Romance, F/F, Flirting, Friendship, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 19:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8025997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackEyedGirl/pseuds/BlackEyedGirl
Summary: Erin is almost completely sure that she would notice if she was dating Holtzmann. Other people disagree.





	won't treat you like you're typical

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Tegan and Sara _Closer_.

“Holtzman?” Erin raps on the door frame. “It’s Erin,” she says, though she is the only one of them who knocks before entering someone else's space. Holtzmann had been down in the basement lab for two days, where she normally only goes when she's working on something particularly large or deadly. Today she's fiddling with something on the desk, and hadn't surfaced for the tacos Abby had brought in at lunch, or for Patty standing in the lobby and yelling that they had been invited to ride in the Village Halloween Parade. “Holtzmann?”

She looks up, but doesn't push her goggles away.

“Is everything okay?” Erin asks.

“A disturbingly large section of the population believe that both the moon landing and ghosts were faked, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary.”

“Okay? But that was true three days ago, and you had a dance party on the roof after breakfast.”

“I'm just saying,” Holtzmann replies, “if your question is ‘is everything okay?’ the world is demonstrably gone to shit.”

“Sure, but- Holtz, would you take those things off and look at me for a minute?”

Holtzmann pushes the goggles up, revealing eyes wilder than usual. She pointedly widens them for effect, and then her gaze catches on something and she looks away.

Erin looks down, checking to see if she's wearing the weird shoes again (they're practical for running, while formal enough for TV interviews, and Holtzmann hates them for some reason). Then she remembers the bandage. “You're not freaked out by blood, are you? Because it's pretty well wrapped, and you've seen worse than this. It's a burn anyway.”

“I know that, Erin.” She puts her goggles back on and goes back to thoroughly and violently taking to pieces… the blaster that had backfired.

Two days ago, Erin was tossed backwards into a fountain by an anchored class 4 entity, and when she surfaced some combination of the fall and the water meant that when she fired, the blaster didn't work. And it particularly didn't work in the way where heat and pain chased backwards up Erin’s inner arm. Abby had got a clean shot at the ghost and between her and Patty, and Holtzmann's dual blasters, they got it under control long enough for Erin to work the trap. Holtzmann and Patty had taken the ghost back, and Abby rode with Erin to the hospital to get her arm checked out. Which, come to think of it, is about the same time Holtzmann retreated to the basement.

“Is this about me getting hurt?” Erin asks.

“You're not hurt.”

“No, but that did sort of explode in my hand.”

“I'm working on it,” Holtzmann says.

“No, I just meant, I get that maybe it would weird you out that I got- although, no, actually I don't get it. Remember when I almost died and you thought it was funny?”

Holtzmann snorts before frowning again. “It was funny.”

Erin shrugs. “Fine. So what's wrong today?”

“If my tech kills you, it's not going to be because it got a short and crapped out.”

“I know.”

Holtzmann blinks at her through the goggles.

“I know that sweetheart.” Erin leans forward and squeezes Holtzmann’s shoulder. She doesn’t know what she’s expecting.

Holtzmann frees one hand and turns the music on. “It'll be because it tears a hole in the universe and ends us all. Experimental, not shoddy.”

“I know.” Tapping Holtzmann's arm, Erin turns back to the door. “Let me know if you want me to test something.”

“When it's ready.”

Erin nods, and heads back upstairs.

 

* * *

Erin has her cell phone on speaker, resting on the corner of her desk while she doodles possible equations for a change to their containment. They're still working on releasing the traps safely, and maybe getting the ghosts out again later, which makes Erin's thoughts drift to ways of releasing ghosts, some of which are just sad - lonely and angry. Some are plain murderous, of course, but she still wonders-

“Erin?” the phone demands.

“Yes, mom.”

“Well good. Can I get the name of this person, or is it a mystery?”

Erin sighs, and pieces the conversation back together again. This is about her cousin's wedding upstate. Ten months ago, when this process started (Erin appreciates organisation but this wedding is testing that view) and she got the save-the-date, she had been seeing someone. So she had agreed that she would need a plus one. She had just forgotten to correct that, and now her mother is obsessing over the table arrangements. For one brief moment of lunacy, she had considered asking if Kevin would go with her - as friends! Or colleagues, whichever. But a) she thinks Kevin currently has a girlfriend and b) it would be weird. He is outrageously attractive, and it would make her mother happy, probably, but Erin hasn't actually got to that point yet. On her better days, she has more sense than that.

Erin looks up and Holtzmann is leaning through the door like she might have been waiting a while. There's a gleam in her eyes - she must know Erin has her mom on the speakerphone, and Erin waits for her to say something horrifically inappropriate.

But Holtzmann just smiles and calls, “Erin? We could use you upstairs, when you're done. The mayor's office has something new for us to look at.”

“I'll be right up, go ahead,” she answers. Then, “I should go, mom.”

“Was that one of your co-workers? It's late, I thought you were at home.”

“Yes, well, hunting ghosts waits for no woman.” Silence. “That was Dr Jillian Holtzmann, she's a brilliant engineer. She designs all of our tech herself.”

“She sounds like a talented woman.”

“She is,” Erin agrees.

“Okay, I'll let you go, darling. Good luck with the project. And I'll tell your cousin you're still bringing a guest. Good night.”

“Goodnight, mom.” Erin hangs up the phone and walks into the hallway.

Holtzmann is leaning against the wall. “Hey there,” she drawls.

“Hi.”

“How's your mom?”

“She's fine.”

Holtzmann raises an eyebrow.

Erin falls into step with her as they head upstairs. “They care about me,” she tells Holtzmann. “They just don't- do you know they've never apologised? Scientific proof, the news footage, all of the video online and she's never- I think she still doesn't believe me.”

“We could bring her a ghost,” Holtzmann suggests. “Got some doozies in containment. Lots of projectile ectoplasm, difficult to explain away.”

She's - probably - not being serious, but the image makes Erin laugh. Holtzmann grins back at her. Erin shrugs. “At least she calls? I suppose I should be grateful.”

Holtzmann wraps one arm around Erin's shoulder. “My mother doesn't call. I'm grateful.”

“You don't get along?”

“She,” Holtzmann announces with dramatic emphasis, “does _not_ approve of my life choices.”

Erin looks at her sidelong and smiles. “Physics?”

“Sure,” Holtzmann agrees, “physics.” She tilts her head. “Do you want company at this shindig?”

“At the- you would come to my cousin's wedding?”

“Guess so. Might be interesting. I’m sure I can rustle up some sort of appropriate apparel.”

Erin doesn’t know what to say to that. She can’t really picture Holtzmann in formal-wear. But she’s interested to see what she might think is appropriate. Still, there’s weeks to go before the wedding. Holtz will probably change her mind in the meantime. Erin asks, “So did the Mayor’s office actually call, or were you just trying to help get me off the phone?”

Holtzmann raises an eyebrow. “They might have called. Who knows? Let’s find out.” She steers Erin down the stairs. “I got your back, kid.”

“I’m, actually, older than you, but okay. Sure.”

 

* * *

Holtzmann says, “I need a volunteer,” and looks expectantly at the three of them. She’s been looking particularly mad scientist today, crooning darkly at the prototypes she’s working on. Erin blames the fact they haven’t had a call-out in a couple of days, and they’ve been working indoors.

“Excuse me?” Patty asks. “Gonna need more information than that, Doctor Frankenstein.”

Holtzmann takes a brief moment to mime ‘It’s alive, _aliiiiive_ ’ before repeating herself. “Volunteer.” She stands up. “Outside.”

Abby looks out the window where it has been raining viciously all day. “Tomorrow, Holtz?”

“Must you interfere with the flow of scientific progress?”

Abby sighs and starts to get up. “Outdoor science couldn't take place on a day with less biblical weather?”

“I'll help,” Erin says. “You stay and finish up the readings.”

Abby frowns at her. “You sure?”

“Yes, it's fine. Come on, Holtz, what do you need? Other than a guinea pig.”

“Guinea pig's no good,” Holtzmann deadpans. “No opposable thumbs. You’ll work much better.”

“Oh that's fine then. As long as you'll be making use of my unique skillset.” Erin grabs her raincoat before they head downstairs. Holtzmann does not - some kind of brimmed head-band is her sole concession to the weather, arms bare from the elbow down. And she’s carrying some of her new toys.

Outside, Holtzmann looks at Erin in her green waxed coat.

“What?” Erin asked.

Holtzmann shakes her head. “One day you're going to need to tell me how much of this is intentional.”

“I don't…”

Holtzmann puts something into her hand. It looks like a battery: a little silvery cylinder which is heavier than it should be, only one button right in the middle. Holtzmann keeps another, seemingly identical, for herself. “What we're going to do,” Holtzmann says, “is count to five, press the button, and then toss these in the air at the same time. Keep it horizontal. Okay? One, two-”

“Wait, wait, five!” Erin throws the thing towards the wall, too hard, where it crashes. Holtzmann's had just gone in a graceful arc up and down.

There is a long pause.

Erin asks, cautiously, “Do we need to duck?”

“Nope,” Holtzmann says, “not this time. Okay, we're going to try again.”

Erin goes to fetch the one she threw against the wall.

“This time,” Holtzmann says. “ _I'll_ count for both of us, and on five, you press the button and throw it up, maybe three feet above your head and five in front of you. What was that, were you trying to strike the ghost out?”

“I don't know, you said throw, and the last thing I really threw was a softball in college.”

“You played softball?”

Erin’s not sure what put that expression on Holtzmann's face. “Until I stopped to finish my thesis, yes.”

Holtzmann shakes her head like she's clearing it. “All right, ready? Remember to keep it horizontal. One, two-”

On 'five’, Erin hits the button and lobs it gently upwards, matching the parabola which Holtzmann's traces. Their descent is arrested in midair, a string of light between them and a low humming sound. Holtzmann pumps her fist. “Fuck yeah.”

Erin doesn't know what the thing is doing, but she's warmed by Holtzmann's enthusiasm.

A moment later, it sputters and falls back to the ground. Holtz shrugs phlegmatically and picks both of them up. “More power, I think.”

“What does it do?”

“Oh. Crowd control. The drop in energy creates a very limited, spatially constricted forcefield. It won't hold for long but it'll work for keeping the ghosts inside and away from the helpless citizens while we do our thing. Obviously, depends on the strength and type of the entity, but as a backup measure-”

“I think it's great, Holtz.”

Holtzmann grins. “I know, right?” She tugs on Erin’s arm. “C’mon, I need you to do some maths for me and figure out this power issue.”

“Is that better or worse than being prized for my opposable thumbs?”

“You have many valuable skills,” Holtzmann tells her gravely.

 

* * *

Erin isn’t superstitious – there’s science underpinning everything she does, whatever certain now ex-colleagues may think. So she doesn’t think they were tempting fate, wondering out loud about when the next major incident would be, after a couple of weeks with nothing big.

This isn’t big exactly, just messy. And at least they’ve got the apparitions under control.

Holtzmann glares at her, ectoplasm dripping down her face. “You think this is pretty funny, don't you, Gilbert?”

Erin tries not to grin. “A little funny, yes. If for no other reason than the fact it wasn't me this time.”

Holtzmann tips her head to the side. “Yet.”

Erin barely has a moment to react before she's on the receiving end of a Holtz bear hug, which is not something a woman escapes from easily. Holtzmann cackles against Erin's neck, ectoplasm squishing between them.

Erin finds herself laughing back. She looks over Holtzmann’s shoulder at Abby and Patty, and grabs tightly onto Holtzmann's hand. Holtzmann picks up her meaning and spins the two of them out, arms at full stretch. They encircle Abby and Patty in a two-person hug, ectoplasm everywhere.

Patty looks between the two of them. “ _Really_?”

“I second that question,” Abby adds. She elbows Erin in the side, but doesn’t make any real attempt to get away.

“Reeeeally,” Holtzmann confirms. She winks at Erin through the sighs of their teammates.

“You’re a menace, is what you are,” Patty says. “And you are lucky that the detailing on the car is already fucked to hell, because this shit is going to go everywhere, you know that.”

“We could lose the suits before we get in,” Holtzmann suggests.

“Your plan is that we drive home naked?” Abby asks.

“I mean, I don’t know about you, Abs, but I don’t go commando under these things.” She takes a beat. “Most days.”

Erin coughs and detangles the four of them. “Okay, home? Probably not naked.”

“Spoilsport.” Holtzmann gives Erin’s hand a squeeze before letting go. “Fine, fine.”

 

* * *

Erin, Abby and Patty are watching the baseball. Patty loves New York more than any ten people Erin has ever met and accordingly hates the Phillies with an intensity Erin admires.

Abby is throwing popcorn at the screen. “Coward!” She objects to intentional walks, apparently.

Holtzmann appears wearing a pair of what Erin assumes are ear defenders but turn out to be over-ear headphones. She pushes them down to hang around her neck and sprawls on the floor at the foot of the couch, one knee pushed wide from the other.

Erin smiles at her. “Hi sweetheart.”

Holtzmann smiles back in a way which could mean 'hi’ back or could mean 'I and I alone know the ten deadliest things in this building one of which is probably me’. Erin should probably be more concerned by that, but before she had the time to consider, someone grabs her arm.

Abby bites, “Come with me.”

Erin is dragged to the kitchen. “What?”

“Are you _dating_ Holtzmann?”

“What? No!” She pauses. “No? No. If I was dating Holtzmann, I think I'd know.”

Abby stares at her. It's a stare Erin was on the receiving end of when she was sixteen and wanted to perm her hair, and when she was nineteen and telling Abby that Max Garrett hadn't meant to be an asshole and was a nice guy underneath it all. Abby doesn't have the time for deluding yourself. She asks, “Would you? Would you really?”

“I have a doctorate from MIT,” Erin notes.

“And?”

“I would know if I was dating someone.”

“I know you think that,” Abby says. “But you’re, you know, bi-clueless. And she's Holtzmann.”

“I am not bi- _clueless_.”

“Honey, you genuinely believed that whatever the hell you were doing around Kevin would read as flirting to him. And I mean that boy has his issues but he manages to date.”

“I know.”

“I have seen him with perfectly nice women, who do improvisational jam art sessions with him-”

“That can't be a thing,” Erin says.

“He showed me the flyer when he invited us.”

“Why didn't we go? We should have gone, he really wants us to be a team.”

“There was the thing with the ghost alligator, remember?”

“Oh.”

“Exactly. And you got me off the point.” Abby underscores this with an actual point, right at Erin’s throat.

“‘Wasn’t your point that I can't flirt and neither can Holtzmann?”

“Holtzmann can flirt.”

“How do you know, I've never seen her with a- how do you even know she dates women?”

Abby stares at her.

Erin asks, “Did she come out to you?”

“No. She came _on_ to me, maybe three minutes after we met. I explained it wasn't my thing, we moved on. You, she tried a line on after what, ten seconds? She flirted, you got all red and ignored it. For months.”

“That’s not the same thing as- _She_ would have told me if we were dating.”

Abby is quiet for a moment. “That speech she gave in the bar after we…”

“Saved New York City?” Erin fills in.

“There was a moment, honest-to-God, where I thought maybe _she_ was possessed this time.”

“Abby, that's not-”

“I don't mean it in a bad way,” Abby says quickly. “She has feelings, it's just that she's not really chatty about them. And you're...”

“Cautious?”

“I was going to say repressed, but okay.”

“Abby!”

“I mean it with love, but you know I'm right.”

Erin sighs.

Abby looks at her. “I am not good at this crap, you know that. If you want to date Holtzmann- _do_ you want to date Holtzmann?”

“I don’t know? I’d quite like to know if Holtzmann wants to date me?”

“Jesus. It’s like dealing with sixteen-year-old you all over again.”

“Sixteen-year-old me would not be able to think about dating Holtzmann,” Erin points out. She’s not sure that forty-year-old her is able to think about it. Holtzmann is funny, and laid-back, and fearless, and Erin is-

Abby punches her in the arm. “There are scarier things in the world than dating Holtzmann.”

 

* * *

“That girl is probably going to kill us all in a hail of fire one day.” Patty has apparently got wind of the ‘Erin possibly dating Holtzmann without noticing it’ situation.

“Yes,” Erin says.

“But until she does, you know she's my sister.”

“I know, Patty.”

“Now, you're my sister too.”

“I know, Patty.” Erin smiles.

Patty nods firmly. “Okay then.” She drags over a notebook. “Now, I've been thinking about how people call in their ghost-related issues.”

“Yes?”

“Sure, Kevin's getting better with the phones, and Abby's got her net group things working, but don't you think we oughta have a real web form, and some sort of Facebook?”

“We've got the Twitter account? Kevin's been doing pretty good with it actually, though some of his image uploads are a little strange…”

“Twitter's, you know, fine.” Patty wrinkles her nose a little. “Though I'm not sure it brings out the best in New York. But does your momma use it?”

“No. Definitely not.”

“Does she use Facebook and comment on pictures of other people's grandbabies?”

“...Yes.”

“Yeah. And if working the MTA taught me anything, people want to communicate with you all kinds of ways. Sometimes those ways are punks graffitiing your walls, you can't help everybody. But mostly -”

“What?”

“When it happened to you, did you want to make a phone call?”

Erin laughs, looking away. “I don't even like making phone calls now.”

Patty nods. “Even the DMV has a Facebook page. And if we can't provide customer service that meets _those_ standards?”

As if the universe was listening to them, Erin’s phone starts ringing. Erin stares at the screen. “My mother is not afraid of phones, however.”

“You aren’t going to answer it?”

“I know what she’s going to say.”

Erin waits for it to go to voicemail and then listens anyway. She sighs, and messages Holtzmann, who is downstairs.

She goes back to listening to Patty’s ideas for their new website, making a note to find an actual designer, someone who can work with Kevin without either running screaming or destroying their whole operation.

A moment later Holtzmann hollers from the stairwell. “Yes, I’m still taking you to the fuckin’ wedding! I bought dress shoes.”

Patty looks like she’s trying – not very hard, but nicely – not to laugh in Erin’s face.

Holtzmann continues to yell. “I’m driving, but you’ll have to put up some petrol money.”

 

* * *

Holtzmann is wearing a white shirt and skinny dark slacks. She has added black suspenders and a green tie the colour of Erin's dress (Erin suspects Abby’s involvement). Her glasses are perched on top of her head.

Erin fiddles with her necklace and runs her hands over the flare of her dress. “Hi.” She looks at the car. “Where did you get...?”

“I have my ways.” Holtzmann sweeps open the passenger door of the car. “Onwards.” Erin gets in and Holtzmann closes the door for her before climbing into the driver side and screeching off.

The drive is pretty nice – Holtzmann headbangs along to whatever she’s got playing, shouting at Erin for directions whenever they get perilously near to the intersection. Erin’s pretty sure Holtzmann’s doing it to screw with her, but she’s good with maps, and she knows where they’re going, so she shouts the turns back.

It’s only when she’s saying, “Yes, just pull into the parking lot,” that she really remembers why they’re here.

Holtzmann opens the door of the car, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “Sure you don’t want to just keep driving? Would you believe I’ve never seen Niagara Falls?”

“Really?”

Holtzmann nods. “But I guess we’re here.”

“Raincheck on the rest of the roadtrip?” Erin asks. She climbs out and tucks her hand into the crook of Holtzmann's arm. “Let’s go in.”

The service is touching, and Sophie looks brilliantly happy, which Erin guesses is about all anyone really wants in a wedding. Erin had planned one when she was younger, but it feels about as substantial as the way she had – at about the same time - planned to set up a colony on Mars with her cat. It’s nice for some people, but she doesn’t think she needs it.

The reception afterwards, here in reality, has been planned by Erin’s mother, who has always been talented at things like this. Erin tries not to think that she’s taking today as her one shot at it.

Erin has her hand on Holtzmann’s arm again; Holtzmann hasn’t reacted to the second looks she keeps getting, but there’s still something a little tense in the way she’s standing.

Erin's mom greets them a moment later. “Erin!”

Erin lets go of Holtzmann to hug her mother. “Hi mom.”

“And this must be Jillian.”

“This is Holtzmann.” Erin nods.

But Holtzmann is smiling and shaking her mom’s hand. “Mrs Gilbert. Erin says you arranged the reception? It’s fantastic.”

“Thank you, dear. Sophie’s mother hasn’t been well enough, so I stepped in to help. I’m so glad Erin finally brought you to meet us.”

“Well, you know Erin,” Holtzmann says, “sometimes she’s too busy saving the city to take a break.”

Erin’s expecting more of a reaction to that, even if it is her mother, but she only smiles. “I hope you’re able to encourage her to do that a little more then. She always works so hard.”

Holtzmann wraps her arm around Erin’s shoulder. “She does. I do too. But we’re both doing what we love. Not everybody gets to say that.”

Her mom looks between them and her expression is soft. “No, I don’t imagine they do.” Someone calls her name from across the room. “I’m sorry, darling, I have to go and deal with that. But I’ll come and find you again, all right?”

“Of course, mom.”

She waves them towards the tables and Erin goes to find out where they’re supposed to be.

When they’ve figured that out and found the place cards with their names on them, Holtzmann sits down beside her. “So that’s your mom.”

“Yes.”

“She’s just going to keep ignoring the ghost thing, huh?”

“Apparently so.” Erin pours them both a glass of wine. “But I think it’s getting better.”

After the meal, there’s dancing. Holtzmann drags her to her feet and spins her out. “No excuses now, Gilbert.”

Erin sighs and lets it happen. Holtzmann knows what she’s doing on a dance floor. Somewhere across the room, her mom is watching them both, smiling again. Honestly, Erin is a little unsettled. But Holtzmann slides her hands down Erin’s arms, thumb caressing the spot where there was a burn and now is only the hint of a scar. She keeps sliding, bouncing down into a crouch, dancing on the balls of her feet, and up again. 

Other people are looking at them now, but Holtzmann keeps eye contact with Erin, grinning like someone with a secret. Erin tells her, “This dress isn’t designed for moves like that.” She sets one of her hands on Holtzmann’s shoulder. “Swaying is really the extent of what I’m capable of here.”

“Then you sway, baby, and I’ll do the moving.” 

Erin laughs and watches the top of Holtzmann’s head as she dances her way down Erin’s body again. Erin sways from foot to foot; Holtzmann’s skin is warm through her dress shirt. And Holtzmann keeps her eyes on Erin.

They stop eventually, Erin out of breath and Holtzmann looking for hydration. They wander over to the bar and grab a couple of bottles of water. Holtzmann curses at something, and when Erin turns around she’s got her tie tangled on the corner of the table decorations.

Holtzmann growls at the tie when she’s got it free, and pulls it off her neck. “Should have worn a vest. Ties are always getting caught on things when I don't.”

Erin shrugs. “It might have been a little warm. And the no-tie look works too.” She holds out her hand. “I can put it in my handbag?”

Holtzmann smiles at her and drops the silk into her palm. Erin wraps it carefully around her hands so it doesn’t wrinkle, and slips it into her impractically small bag. Her satchel is in the back of the car.

Holtzmann tips her head back to swallow water from the bottle and her throat works. Erin belatedly remembers to drink some of her own. When she looks back down, she is being watched.

“Has the evening been as dreadful as you anticipated?” Holtzmann asks her, one eyebrow arched.

“It hasn’t been so bad,” Erin says. “...Although I’m about ready to leave.”

“Oh, thank God, me too.” Holtzmann nods across the room. “One of your possible uncles/possible cousins has been licking his lips looking over here. Which is horrifying on a number of levels.” She pauses. “But one more dance?”

Erin hums. “Yes. Let’s have one more dance.”

 

* * *

This was a terrible idea. They’d had a good time at the wedding, and now Erin was going to make it awkward, because that’s what she does. It’s going to look like she spent all day hunting out a thank-you gift (which she did) and ruin any pretence that Erin can be casual. She’s so _bad_ at this.

Erin puts the wrapped box aside on her desk and ignores it. It was a bad idea, but she hasn’t done anything with it, so it’s fine. She can just buy Holtzmann a drink at the bar to say thanks, and they can keep things the way they are.

She gets called up to the roof where Abby has been engaged in mapping out the latest recorded apparitions, checking for any patterns. They’re not going to be caught out again.

“How are you categorising these?” Erin asks. “I think you’re going to need different markers for classes of entity, and maybe for whether they’re location specific?”

“Yes, but if we’re too specific, we risk missing patterns by trying to make them adhere to our idea of categories. We _know_ we don’t know everything yet, Erin, so if we just map all the data we have, and then try to work out whether the existing categories are meaningful-”

“Lunch!” Kevin calls out. He tosses them wrapped sandwiches – each other’s, granted, but at least he ordered correctly for both of them. Then he adds, “Erin, I thought you were in your office, but then I realised Holtzmann’s mail was in your office and not you. So I brought her the mail, and you the sandwich.”

“I- what?” Then she figures it out. “You took the parcel out of my desk?”

“I thought maybe you had changed the inter-office mail systems.” He nods. “And I can handle that. Dr Yates says I need to use my own initiative more often.”

Abby mutters, “I did not say that.”

Kevin heads back downstairs, humming to himself.

“I had a performance review with him,” Abby says. “I asked him to think a little more about ways he could help out without being given specific instructions. Why did you have Holtzmann’s mail anyway?”

“I got her a present.”

Abby’s forehead creases. “And you changed your mind about it.”

“Yes.”

“For any particular reason, or because you’re you?” She sighs. “Just go downstairs and talk to her.”

That’s a good point. Maybe she can get the present back before Holtzmann opens it. She dashes for the stairs, ignoring Abby’s long-suffering sigh behind her. But when Erin gets to Holtzmann’s lab, she’s looking quizzically at the jewellery box. Erin says, “Hi.”

“Hey. Did you buy me a ring?”

“What? No, I- you’ve opened it, haven’t you?”

“I was waiting for you. Since I assume you haven’t taken to asking Kevin to pass notes for you in class. I liked the wrapping paper though.”

Erin gives up and opens the box. “It’s weird, I know.”

It’s a silver tie-clip, with a ray-gun decoration. It’s from Buck Rogers or something like that, Erin thinks, but it looks a little like their proton blasters.

Erin tries to explain. “I just thought, because of your tie, which I think I still have actually, I should get that back to you. And it’s not exactly like our proton guns, but-”

Holtzmann holds up her hand. “Deep breaths, Erin.”

“Thank you for coming to the wedding with me.”

“Hang on.” Holtzmann takes the clip out of the box, and unbuttons her vest. “I’m going to put this on right now.”

“You don’t have to. I know you have a _style_ , and your stuff is always so… you.”

“I buy my own shit,” Holtzmann says, and Erin would think she’s taken offence at the gift, but her expression doesn’t match it. She goes on, “I think this is the coolest fucking thing anyone’s ever given me.” She uses it to attach her delicate tied scarf to her shirt. 

“Oh.” Erin stares at her. “Good.”

“Go away now.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m in the middle of a thing, and I want to show it to you when it’s done. Go be somewhere else for a while, and I’ll yell when I’m finished.”

 

* * *

“You hunting for volunteers again?”

Erin startles when Patty speaks and she looks up to find Holtzmann lurking in the doorway. Holtzmann’s wearing her boots. Erin sits up on the couch, looking for her own shoes, which she kicked off under the chair. They’re not the ones Holtzmann hates today.

Abby frowns indiscriminately around the room. “I feel as though something is going on here and I’m not sure I like it.” She waves a flashcard in Kevin’s direction.

He thinks about it a moment. “PKE Meter?”

“Excellent. As a reward, you may be allowed to use the PKE Meter on our next callout. Especially since it is increasingly clear that Holtzmann is about to unleash some new weaponry, at least for some of us. I remember when you gave me all the coolest toys.”

Holtmann shrugs one shoulder, and then the other. She winks at Erin. “Wanna be a test subject?”

“For you, Holtz? I can do that.”

Erin follows Holtzmann downstairs to the alley, which is still the best weapons testing range they have right now.

Holtzmann turns around and presents something to Erin, balanced on one palm.

“Isn't that…?” It’s the gun Holtzmann was working on before, the one she said Erin couldn’t touch yet.

Holtzmann unfolds her free hand, very slowly, gesturing at nothing in particular. “I said it, didn't I? As soon as it was finished, it was for you. Field-tested and everything, guaranteed not to explode or backfire on you, even during paranormal emergencies. That's the Holtzmann guarantee.” She presses a kiss to the pistol-grip like a seal to the promise, and hands over the gun.

Erin tugs at the lapels of Holtzmann's jacket and checks her expression quickly before leaning in for a kiss. She ducks back up for air and fires off the pistol, sending out a blast of complicated looking light, which then explodes.

The air sparkles.

“It affects the corporeality of matter,” Holtzmann explains. Her eyes are bright. “Anchors the ghost here longer. Makes it more susceptible to damage, on this plane long enough to take it down.”

Erin ducks her forehead to Holtzmann’s, laughing suddenly, breathless. “You're the best, did you know that?”

“I suspected.” Holtzmann raises one eyebrow. “But you’re not bad either.” She pulls Erin back down. “And I would very much like to dance with you one day.”

Holtzmann’s kisses are sweet and hot, leaving just enough air for breathing but not for thinking. So it takes Erin a moment to realise that she’s still laughing.

Holtzmann blinks at her, not offended, waiting for her to share the joke.

Erin explains. “I told Abby that you would let me know if you were flirting with me.”

“I am definitely flirting with you,” Holtzmann says. “Kissing is one of my top ten signs.”

“You should tell me the others,” Erin says. “But I’m good with this one for now.”


End file.
